The second that Fury was out of sight, the elevator doors closed between them, Lucie started to wonder if she had just fallen headfirst into a trap. Maybe she had been out of the game too long, a handful of months can be a lifetime to some in their business. She had half expected Sharon to be waiting at the elevator for her, still annoyed but open enough for a conversation or at the very least a dressing down. While she would pretend to loathe every second of it, Lucie would stand there and take it, knowing that on some level that the blonde was right.

When there was no familiar face to meet her off the elevator on the operational floor, Lucie tried not to be disappointed. Adamant not to let it show, she made sure that everyone she passed knew she was back. She wouldn't say a word, she didn't need to, nothing fuelled the rumour mill better than tiny parts of a story and nothing revealed the gossips and the opportunists quite like it. The next few hours would cement just who exactly she could trust inside the DC branch of SHIELD. Who would tell her about the disused subway service tunnel and who would let her wander around the undercity in hopes that she wouldn't come back. A few brave employees tried to make eye contact for a fraction of a second, some even tapping their neighbours to tell them to look.

"Is that Agent James?" one woman stammered, almost dropping her coffee cup in the process.

"That's Tony Stark's kid?" another guessed. They slid their thick-lensed glasses down their nose for a better look, following her movements and only replaced them when they were satisfied their question had been answered.

"Man, what I wouldn't give," wished a third, this one earning a half-grin and a wink as she walked on by, not that he ever stood a chance but it was useful to have people who were willing to do a favour for as little as a promise of a drink.

Whispers were to be expected, they were after all a large part of the business, more can be learned from a few moments of hushed conversation than a year of lectures and the second that those whispers of fear and awe began to surround her again, Lucie knew that Lucifer was back to stay. She had made her point, announced her arrival in the most subtle way an agent of SHIELD could and she looked forward to the rumours that would soon be circulating.

There was a slight vibration against her hip and Lucie automatically reached into the pocket of her leather jacket for the source. She had known for a while about the stowaway in her pocket and the little auburn-haired girl on the with the bubble-gum who put it there. Other than a quick fumble in her pocket to make certain that it wasn't a bomb or something similar, Lucie left it alone, knowing exactly what it was the second her fingertips made contact. Pagers had fallen out of fashion when Lucie was still a child, a form of technology that her father hadn't bothered introducing her to, knowing that they would be long gone. These days, pagers were used almost exclusively in healthcare settings, the remainder was used by faux nostalgics, a handful of old school drug dealers and mercenaries. Lucie considered the outdated gadget for a moment, realising that technically she fell into that category. As a self-employed agent, she was essentially a mercenary, just one with the luxury of picking her missions. Even before she turned the device in her hand to see the illuminated screen, Lucie knew what the message would say. Despite her adoration for the cloak and dagger of spy work, she wasn't exactly known for her subtly.

Welcome to the club xoxo

'No need to head home just yet,' Lucie thought to herself, not bothering to suppress the smirk that found its way across her face. Those that were still watching her quickly looked away, busying themselves with whatever work they had neglected.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to get off the grid?" came a velvet voice from the stairwell above.

Lucie peered over the handrail and looked immediately up were an all too familiar face stared back at her that looked less than impressed. She jogged up the steps two at a time until the pair were face to face.

"Who said I was trying to get off the grid?" Lucie countered with a shrug, handing over the pager that had been left in her custody. "Friend of yours?"

"Who said she was one of mine?"

"Really Tasha? Why didn't you just put her in a Black Widow t-shirt and have done with it?"

Natasha smiled. "Someone made Black Widow t-shirts?"

"Well, you've been too busy watching Gossip Girl and going all retro on my ass so…"

Natasha laughed. "Come on, there's a deli around the corner. You can pay."

Lucie smiled and took Natasha's offered arm. "Well, I did get a new job today," she conceded.

By the time he managed to catch his breath and turn his head bedside table, the display on his alarm clock stated 2:42 AM in obnoxious red light. Rather than being thrilled at another potential three hours of sleep, he exhaled deeply and rubbed away the remains of sleep from his eyes as if trying to scrub free his dream from the inside of his eyelids. New York had given his subconscious yet more ammunition to torture him with and it played like a movie in his head every time he closed his eyes. He had seen New York crumbling around him, windows exploding and steel warping out of shape as if it were made of rubber. The city burned and in the chaos, all he could do was watch as the Chitauri cut down everyone in their path while he helplessly tried to fight back. Each of his movements were agonisingly slow as he tried to fight against the foot soldiers that were taking the city but nothing happened. Throughout all of it, he saw Lucie fighting for her own survival and losing as the Chitauri dealt out more and more damage. Rather than the stubborn fire that constantly imploded in her soul, all Steve could see was fear. Some nights he was lucky enough to wake up before the killing blow. Some nights he wasn't and would be forced to watch as she fell to the floor, no light behind her burnt honey eyes.

Before he realised what happened, Steve's cell phone was in his hand and Lucie's number on the screen. It had been a difficult habit to get into, calling her in the early hours of the morning eventually the stints in the gym at 3 AM felt natural. Lucie was always there to answer his calls. The two months that she had been gone seemed like a lifetime but he still couldn't stop the habit, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He slicked his hair back out of his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow, dropping the phone onto the bed beside him without pressing the call button. The phone only rang the first time he called, after that all he got was an automated voice apologising because her phone was turned off. Immediately he called Natasha, automatically assuming the worst.

"She's fine. Just taking some time," she said easily.

Everything about the way she said it made Steve want to believe her. The warm yet sympathetic smile, the seeming lack of concern that Lucie had gone off the radar. Maybe she was telling the truth. Natasha knew her better than he did. How many stories had Lucie told him about Natasha and Clint

Maybe it was just wishful thinking to think that they meant more to each other than a mission from SHIELD.

Giving up on sleep for the time being, Steve headed to the kitchen for a glass of water to clear his head. By the time the sun was climbing up the Washington Monument, Steve was already on his second lap of the National Mall. Washington DC was exactly what Steve had expected when relocation had been pitched to him. The city itself was beautiful, filled to the brim with beautiful buildings and nods to the more celebrated parts of American history. His morning run led him through some of the more famous landmarks and memorials. DC had very little of the charm that New York boasted, there was almost a clinical feeling in the air. It was a place of politics not of community or family. No kids played on bikes or skates where he lived, no mom-and-pop-stop-shop on his block. Lucie had been the one to choose his apartment in New York. She knew the area well since she lived there herself and knew what Steve needed. He needed Manhattan with a warm smile and unapologetic honestly to guide him into the 21st century. He needed half stale doughnuts and 3 AM appointments with a punchbag in the gym and someone to remind him which library books needed to be returned. Washington DC wasn't Manhattan which had only just started to feel like home when the Chitauri made their grand and spectacular entrance. It had taken a couple of months but Steve was finally starting to realise that it wasn't his routine that had made Manhattan feel like home, it was the woman who facilitated it.